


A Dream In Fire

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anders Being Anders (Dragon Age), Banter, Book: The Tale of the Champion - Varric Tethras, Crestwood (Dragon Age), Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Sit In Judgment, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Inquisitor (Dragon Age) Sided with Mages, Not Tagging All Characters Until Relevant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prisoners, Sided with Mages, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:10:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: Lavellan is just getting accustomed to her new role as Inquisitor on the back of what she considers her greatest failure. Trying to balance finding a way to bring her enemy down, an unexpected prisoner arrives. Not witness to the events of Kirkwall, she doesn’t feel qualified to judge right away, and must take the time to really get to know her prisoner to make the decision.
Relationships: Anders/Lavellan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just really, really wanted to do an Anders/Quiz fic. So I’m doing it. I’ll update the tags as I go, and add characters as they appear in the story.

Amara sat in the Herald’s Rest, frowning over the top of her mug, sighing. 

“What’s on your mind?” Varric asked. 

She took a drink, setting it down with a shrug. “This place makes no sense. I fail to save Haven and instead of being angry, they put me in charge? I came from a pretty isolated clan and I obviously had no leadership experience.  _ Perfect candidate.”  _

“There was no saving Haven. You know that as well as anyone. You did the best you could in an impossible situation. With that mark, you’re here whether you like it or not anyway. Seems like you’re a natural choice.” He said. “What have they had you doing anyway?” 

She propped her head on her hand, taking another drink, the mark flickering on the side. “Most of it has been paperwork. Can we add guards and authorize extra rotations, are we allowed to send spies here? Do we support this person over this one? We’ve found a spoon that might be important, can we go get it?”

Varric laughed at that. “Sounds like riveting stuff.” 

“I mean, they were doing this stuff just fine without me before. Maybe I’m just stressed. Josephine told me I’m also in charge of judging prisoners. Like that sounds sane. Not at all concerned I might be biased or having a bad day?” She groused. 

“Well, I’d argue that one. I’ve gotten to know you. You’ve always seemed pretty fair. That and I’ve yet to see you in a particularly foul mood. At least more fair than most here would be. Anyone lined up?” He asked. 

“Alexius. Dorian was hoping I might be merciful. He tells me Felix already passed, so I’m sure he’s pretty broken as it is.” She sighed heavily. “I shouldn’t after what he did, but most of that was in the future. Can’t consider things that haven’t happened, and honestly, I’m not even mad anymore. I just feel bad.”

“You feel bad for the guy that tried to erase you from existence? Yeah...you might just be too nice.” He chuckled. “You’ll figure this out.” 

She fidgeted with her mug for a few moments before she raised it again, her nose wrinkling when she set it down again. She wasn’t the most seasoned of drinkers, the taste a bit bitter for her taste, but it wore the edges down enough to be bearable. Haven lingered in the corners of her mind, and it was difficult to process what happened, harder still with the added responsibility of leading a cause she didn’t even fully understand yet. 

“I suppose I have little choice now. I’ve already accepted the position. Anyway. Is your contact here yet? You said the battlements, but I hear things. You’re worried Cassandra will find out. Isn’t that a little open? She’s usually right below…” she said. 

“You’re wasted as a mage, kid.” He sighed. “Besides, I hear your clan sent you off as a spy, might not be a bad future for you.” 

“I’m not as good as Leliana. Although I do pay attention and I seem to have a gift for being where people don’t tend to notice me.” She shrugged. Raising her foot slightly, she shrugged again. “I don’t wear boots and I’m light on my feet. Too much noise makes you an easy target, and as an elf and an apostate besides, it makes sense to be as quiet as possible.” 

“I suppose that’s true. Solas is pretty quiet too, come to think of it.” He observed. “He’s not here yet, but should be arriving sometime soon.” 

“You’ll have to let me know. I have my suspicions on who your contact is, but rest assured I don’t intend to say a word about it.” She said. 

Varric grinned. “Well then. Impress me a little more. Who do you think it is?” 

”Based solely on our conversations in Haven? It can't possibly be Bartrand and most of the contacts you had in Kirkwall were scattered. You said Isabela is off sailing, Merrill leading a clan, Fenris fighting slavers, etcetera. My mind is drawing the conclusion that it can only be Hawke. The very same person Leliana indicated you had said you couldn't find. Exactly why she would be absolutely furious to know you in fact, could find him.” she said calmly. ”I'm willing to bet you've been writing to him the whole time and knew exactly what he's been up to.”

Varric stared at her for a few moments, cracking a wide grin. ”Have I mentioned you're  _ wasted _ as a mage? Because you are.” 

She smiled a little, polishing off her drink before raising a hand for another round. ”I believe you mentioned it just a bit ago. I'm always willing to hear it again. I don't have much of an ego, I can afford to grow a bit of one now, I suppose. What I don't know is what he could possibly want to talk to me about. We've already covered all the limited information there is regarding red lyrium. Unless he's coming to give me advice on how to really stir things up and annoy my commander? I'm uncertain of the subject of his arrival.”

Varric tilted his head, reaching for the fresh mug held out to him when it arrived. ”You appear to have a common enemy now. Corypheus. I was there when Hawke faced him before. Figured he might have some information that would be of use to you. Maybe leads worth looking into.” 

Amara polished off the last few swallows of her old drink, setting the new one in its place. “Well...if that’s the case, I’m very happy he’s coming. Could use someone with a better clue on what I’m dealing with than ‘Angry old man wants to destroy the world and become a god.’ Anything is more useful than that at this point. If you were there, you’d know. Was there always a dragon or is that new?”

”Wasn’t there before. He was just some very confused guy in a prison. Strong enough then. I swear, we saw him dead. I have no idea how he's back now. It's probably weird mage shit I don't understand anyway.” he said. 

”I’ve had magic since I was a child. I still don't completely understand it myself. I had no idea that time magic was a thing until I experienced it. Dorian said it was purely theoretical when he was helping with it. But even in theory, it wasn't something I'd have thought possible. I've never seen a mage in my clan use blood or lyrium, so I know nothing about either other than it supposedly makes you stronger. So I suppose it's all weird mage shit to me too.” she admitted. 

”Must be a common thing then. I remember Hawke mentioning he had no idea Blondie wasn't gathering ingredients to get rid of Justice, and it was definitely a bomb. But then we saw plenty of blood mages first hand.” he said.

”Suppose as long as it's still cluttering up my list of things to do, I really should get around to Alexius at some point before I get even busier. I'd prefer my dungeons empty.” Amara muttered. 

”Any ideas on what you'll do with him?” Varric asked. 

”I’m certain he wants to die. I could oblige, but Dorian has been helpful, and he's not a bad guy. I’d like to be fair, but not too lenient. Something that is helpful to someone but might give him a reason to get his spark back. Dorian mentioned he was happy researching. Perhaps I'll put him to work as a researcher. Under watch, of course. I can't have him perking up  _ too much _ , I'd rather not deal with more future mishaps.” she rambled. 

”See? Sounds like you'll be better at this than you think. You've clearly given it plenty of thought. Sounds like it could be a fair outcome. I imagine you'll be judging a lot of people in the coming days.” Varric assured her. 

”Unfortunately. Why can't people just…not screw up? While it’s nice not to read reports or deal with someone’s bullshit squabbles, I’d really be happier with less work. I suppose only I would know, but closing rifts isn’t exactly painless, it hurts. Not to mention how many times I’ve been injured by demons. Wood. Bandits. Mages. Templars. Bears. There’s only so much the healers can do before one day it’ll be too much for ointments, potions, bandages and bed rest. A spirit healer would be a welcome addition to the Inquisition, but they’re in short supply, I hear. Solas seems to have some capacity for healing or I’d be dead, we all would. I can tell it’s not his specialty though. More like...a one off trick.” She ranted. 

“Heard the Hero of Ferelden had one with her. Not sure whatever happened to her. Otherwise, there was Blondie, and I have no idea where he went after Kirkwall. I don’t want to know either. I suppose if there’s one around, maybe asking Fiona or Leliana would be the best option. Can say this much: I hear scars are sexy to some people. Bull has a couple and he’s doing well. Cullen has some admirers. Surprised he’s not beating them off with a stick.” He said, laughing at the end. 

“So you think that’s what I need? A nice scar to give me some character and a bit of sex appeal?” She joked. 

“Well, it isn’t as though you’re not already attractive. Not that I look, or have looked, but you’re notably curvier than most elves I’ve seen. A scar would balance that out. Scars say ‘Yeah, I’m pretty, but don’t mess with me, I’ll ruin your day.’ Like that one bandit you set on fire? That was priceless!” He snorted. 

“My ass is burning!” She laughed. Her expression turned to one of mock pouting. “You show off all that chest hair and compliment my figure and you’re not even  _ looking _ ? What a waste. Varric Tethras, you’re a tease.” 

He grinned, shrugging. “What can I say, I’m a heartbreaker. Besides, it would never work between us, you’re too tall.” 

“Perfectly sized, you mean. If I was serious, you’d come right to my chest, seems like that’s a decent place to be.” She laughed. “In all seriousness though, and I do hate being serious if I don’t have to be. Thank you. You’ve done wonders to help me relax. This has been more stressful than I’d like to admit, but now it doesn’t feel so bad.” 

“Happy to help. Just doing my part for the great Inquisitor Lavellan.” He said. 

“Great, is it? I don’t think I’ve done anything particularly great, not yet.” She admitted. 

“Closing the Breach was a big deal. Saved Thedas with that one. We come out of the rest of this alive? You’ll be a legend.” He told her. 

“For all of five minutes before I become just another elf, at least.” She muttered into her drink. “I’ll go deal with Alexius after this. Might as well get it over with.”

“I imagine Josephine will be happier with less paperwork, and Curly can probably relieve a guard or two from that assignment at least.” He agreed. 


	2. Chapter 2

Amara eyed the throne at the end of the hall. It was imposing, looked liked the skull of some great beast, a dragon if she had to guess. She sighed, shaking her head. It seemed too much, honestly. Surely not even the King of Ferelden, maybe not even an Empress had a throne nearly this pretentious and grand. All of this for an elf... was she anyone else, there would certainly be a riot. No wonder the Chantry was wary of her. Now she was meant to judge prisoners? Was that not also a more royal authority than she should have? 

Grimacing, she held her head high, walking towards it. It was one thing to be hesitant of such power, another entirely to show it. Leliana and Josephine had both impressed that sentiment repeatedly. It felt strangely natural to pretend she was someone more important than she felt, even with all eyes now turned toward her. The scrutiny felt tangible, and as she sat down, Josephine came to her side, raising her writing board. 

”May I assume you are ready to deal with the Magister?” she asked. 

Her accent always struck her as very pleasant. It made her want to see Antiva for herself someday. For as much as the nobility tended to get under her skin, she was refined and cultured, far more pleasant to deal with than the more local nobles. Surely it would be a trip worth taking. 

”Yes. Send him in, I'm prepared to hear his defense.” she said. 

Josephine spoke briefly with a soldier, who nodded once before leaving, presumably to grab the guards and Alexius. Doris had made his way down from the library, standing off to the side, arm propped on the other, thumb against his lips like he wanted to say something but reserved it to see what she had planned for him. 

Cullen’s men were nothing if not efficient. Minutes later, they reappeared in the hall, Alexius shackled in front of her, refusing to look anywhere but the floor. Her assessment seemed more accurate now. His shoulders sagged, eyes dark like he hadn't slept. A bit thinner than she recalled. Perhaps he had refused to eat. Felix’s death must have hit him especially hard, Dorian had indicated he was really all he had left. 

Josephine raised her board, quill poised to write, should the need arise. 

”You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgment of your aid.” she said. 

So King Alistair had allowed this? Her one and only meeting with him left no time to talk personally and had seemed especially tense considering the situation. Was it simply because of her aid or more because he didn't feel like handling it himself? 

”The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement and attempted assassination - on your own life, no less.” She added. ”Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit.”

That was sad, in a way. He had done it all in a misguided attempt to appease the Elder One, to save his son. In the end, it hadn't mattered. He lost everything he had in a final gamble for the chance to save the last thing he cared about. She had to wonder if she'd have considered absolutely anything to save her Keeper, her mother? Her own father had passed some years before, a hunt went wrong. An only child, she had no siblings to speak of. Would she have been willing to serve someone whose views were not aligned with her own for a chance to save her? Blood magic? Deals with demons? What was the limit for someone you cherished? 

”These are very serious charges. I witnessed them personally. Well, I recall what would have befallen Thedas had you succeeded.” Amara sighed. 

”I couldn't save my son. Do you think my fate matters to me?” he said. 

_ No, I suppose it doesn't. Waiting to die. Perhaps waiting for a chance to see him in the afterlife… _

”Will you offer nothing more in your defense?” Josephine asked. 

”You’ve won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you've gathered - you'll lose it all in the storm to come.” Alexis said. ”render your judgment, Inquisitor.” 

The sign of a broken man trying to force her hand. Of course, he wanted to die. By saying that, he wanted her to kill him. To end his suffering. Her eyes fell to Dorian, still waiting for her verdict. 

Amara leaned back, steepling her fingers. This required careful thought. There were plenty of options. Not many she liked. Making someone Tranquil was a terrible thing, not something she would ever consider. It seemed like a terrible fate for a mage, not deadly but it might as well have been. Killing him would have been a mercy to him, but it didn’t feel like justice to her. She nibbled the inside of her lip, rather than the outside where others might perceive her conflict. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees. 

“You will serve the Inquisition under guard. You used magic that was theoretically impossible. I have no doubt you’re a clever man, Alexius. You will remain on for the duration of the Inquisition, researching magic. This will also benefit the mages you claimed, after all.” She said. 

Josephine immediately began writing, nodding to the guards, who immediately hauled him from the room to see him to his new task. Dorian smiled, mouthing a silent thank you before he retreated back to the library. Some of the nobles sniffed boredly before returning to their conversations. Others gathered walked away, chattering about it on their way out. 

Amara stood up, kneading her brow with a sigh. Varric approached halfway down the hall, thumbing over his shoulder towards the wall. 

“Not bad. Knew you’d figure it out.” He praised. “I thought you’d like to know he’s here. Cassandra went off somewhere with a book, so I’m sure she’ll be busy for a while.” 

“Thank you, Varric. It was...more difficult than I imagined.” She admitted. “Let’s go then, it won’t do to keep him waiting.” 

They left the hall, crossing into the yard and through the tavern. Varric led the way, rounding down a short set of stairs. A man hunched over the edge, glancing back when he heard their approach. He turned, testing his elbows behind him. The first thing she noticed was the brilliant color of his eyes. An interesting light color that shines gold when they light caught them just right. He had a swipe of what appeared to be blood over the bridge on his nose. He had his hair tied back in a short ponytail, a few stray strands hanging free. His face was smooth, not quite the scraggly beard and short hair of the book, but no doubt it was an effort to not stand out as much. No wonder Varric repeatedly mentioned his popularity, he seemed quite fetching, at the very least, unique in appearance. 

“This is Hawke. Hawke, Inquisitor Lavellan.” Varric told them. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t imagine you would be this tall.” She said. 

Much taller than she had anticipated, in fact. A little difference was one thing. It was a bit intimidating being towered over. 

Hawke grinned at that. “Pleasure is all mine, Inquisitor. I’ve heard a lot about you. You seem to have earned the approval of my dear friend. Good enough for me.” 

“You’ve been talking about me, have you?” She asked with a laugh. “I can’t decide if I should be concerned or flattered. Memorable, at the very least.” 

“All good things, I can assure you.” He told her. “That’s rare for him. Seems like being a prisoner may have improved your outlook, Varric.” 

“Ha ha, Hawke. Very funny.” He said sarcastically. 

“Yes, I’m hilarious, thank you.” He countered. 

“Why don’t you tell her what you know? I’m sure she’d like to hear it.” Varric suggested. 

”Ah. Right! You've already dropped a mountain on Corypheus. I'm not sure how much use I can be. Perhaps you’ll find some use in it.” 

”I did. Very nearly killed myself in the process. I take it you at least had more success in your encounter.” she said. 

”We should sit. This may take a bit.” he suggested. 


	3. Chapter 3

Amara stared off into the distance, cold rain cascading down. She shouldered her pack with a sigh. “No, can’t say I care for this.” 

Varric muttered under his breath, Bull and Hawke in tow, neither phased by the heavy rain. 

“I’m with you, this shit’s for the birds. Poor Bianca is getting all wet.” He remarked. 

“ _ Something, something, wet woman, something…”  _ Amara struggled _. “ _ I’ll keep working on it. Had a destination, but got lost down an alley I guess.” 

Bull shrugged a shoulder. “If you can’t make a woman wet, you need more practice?” 

Amara’s jaw dropped and she put a palm to her forehead. “That’s so  _ good. _ Better than where my mind was leading anyway.” 

Hawke laughed, interrupting only to gesture to a cave. “He should be there.” 

“Not many women in the wardens, I take it?” She asked curiously. 

“Dunno. Haven’t met many, though the few I’ve met have all been men, so probably not?” Hawke replied with a shrug. 

“A shame. Not that I’m particularly interested in a change of occupation. Just seems like that might boost morale. Had someone who claims to have seen wardens during the Blight. Bet it wasn’t even true though.” She shrugged. 

Hawke led the way into the cave, Amara thinking nothing of following quickly. Mostly to get out of the cold, until she ended up with a sword pointed at her throat. Her hands immediately went up, bits of fire tingling slowly between her fingertips. 

She frowned, nodding to her hands. “Uh. That’s not on purpose. Instincts and all. Don’t much care for pointy things aimed so close to something so vital and yet so squishy.” 

“It’s alright. This is the Inquisitor. She’s here to hear you out and try to help if possible.” Hawke told him. 

“Hawke?  _ Hawke _ . Help, what now? Details, I’m panicking here.” She announced warily. 

The man finally lowered his sword, sheathing it before holding out his hand. She stared at it like she might catch the taint just by touching him, but shook it anyway. 

“Inquisitor Amara Lavellan.” She said. 

“Stroud.” 

“The one your compatriots appear to be hunting in the hills?” She asked. “Whatever would you be doing hiding out here?” 

“You just answered your own question, Boss.” Bull snorted. 

“Too true. I realize that now.” She admitted. 

“Are all of your friends like this?” Stroud asked. 

“What can I say, I have that effect.” Hawke grinned. “I rub off on people.” 

“Varric rubbed off on me.” Amara shrugged. 

“I did no such thing.” Varric said, seeing the questionable look Stroud flashed at him. “Not literally, anyway.” 

“He won’t even indulge me a little.” Amara clarified with a pout. 

“Me neither.” Hawke mirrored her disappointment. 

“Well, that aside, the situation has become dire, Inquisitor.” Stroud began. 

Amara flinched slightly at both the title and formality. She’d used it to describe herself, but it was always a bit unexpected when others hurled it at her. 

“What...uh...what kind of ‘dire’ are we talking about here?” She asked. 

“Warden-Commander Clarel is summoning all Wardens to Orlais. Every Warden in Thedas is now hearing a calling, and she’s got this terribly misguided idea to use what time we have left to end the Blights forever.” He began. 

“Pray tell, how might she claim to do this? Could Corypheus be at play?” She asked, directing the second question to anyone, no one who seemed even remotely interested in hazarding a guess. “Okay, just Clarel then, how?” 

Stroud grimaced. “She means to assail the deep roads. With blood magic and demons. To destroy the Archdemons.” 

Amara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, forgive me, I’m not even from here. So you’re saying firstly, you know exactly where the archdemons are? Secondly, do wardens plan to ally with demons through blood magic?” She took a few steps away, shaking her head. “Nevermind how. That sounds like a colossally terrible idea. Plus...I mean.  _ Demon Army _ . Familiar with how that one goes…”

She paused a bit, shaking her head again. “Nope. Don’t want to know. Three questions, let’s keep this simple. When, where and who else?” 

Stroud sighed. “Adamant. The Wardens are scattered, it will take weeks for all of them to gather. Who else? Wardens and demons not enough for you, Inquisitor?”

Amara grinned a bit, raising her marked hand. “I have a knack for getting into trouble way over my head. I can still doggy paddle at this point.” 

It was said entirely as a joke, but her companions nodded in thoughtful agreement. She stared at them for a moment. 

“Adamant...well, we have a heading, let’s go right now and knock this out?” She suggested. 

Hawke put a hand on her shoulder. “Slow down. I can appreciate you wanting to deal with this before they’re gathered, but we don’t know what’s out there. Your spymaster will surely want to use the time to scout ahead and if I know Cullen, he won’t allow it until every bit of preparation can be done. There’s no point going now, only to possibly be caught off guard.” 

“I’ll go on ahead and keep an eye on matters. If the situation changes, I’ll send word.” Stroud told her. 

“Sure. I mean it’s not as if you’re being  _ hunted _ or anything.” She said. 

“I’ll be very careful, my lady.” He said, departing first. 

“This isn’t doomed to go poorly at all…” she snorted. “Shall we head out I guess? Make camp at the border and head back in the morning?” 

“Might as well.” Varric said. 

* * *

In the morning, the group rolled out of bed, in varying states of awakeness and awareness. Still raining. 

“Inquisitor?” Harding called quietly. “So sorry to bother you so soon, but a letter arrived early this morning for you.” 

Amara rubbed the sleep from her eyes, reaching for it. “Another proposal, perhaps?” 

“Not unless Commander Cullen is interested in marriage, Your Worship.” She said. 

Amara nearly dropped it, fumbling with it as though fully expecting it to start barking orders. 

“I...do we know what he wants?” She asked, concerned.

“No clue. It’s got a marking on it. Means it’s ‘urgent-private’ for your eyes only.” Harding told her. 

Grimacing, she unrolled the letter, somehow expecting it to be completely world shaking news. Instead, she rolled it back up, stuffing it in her bag with a roll of her eyes. 

“Well?” Hawke asked curiously. 

“Cullen thought to notify me ahead of our return. A ‘high profile’ prisoner was apprehended and brought to the dungeons to await my judgment. Says the Marches, Ferelden AND Orlais want no part of this and have left it up to me to decide what happens.” She muttered. 

“Doubtful it’s Corypheus. Likely not Samson.” She decided. “I’ve judged Alexius. Who else would it be? Haven’t exactly pissed anyone off that’s actually lived since the last time.” 

“Lot of people that were already wanted since before the Inquisition. Probably someone you’ve never met. They say it’s a gesture of good faith, but really? No one wants to get their hands dirty.” Hawke said. 

“That doesn’t help me any. Not from here, don’t know any criminals at large,” she said. “Guess I’ll find out when we get back? Ooh, this is all a bit exciting. A mystery could be fun. One that doesn’t involve demons or darkspawn or dragons? I’m looking forward to meeting this mysterious, notorious bad guy...well...or girl, I guess.”


	4. Chapter 4

Amara leaned against the edge of Cullen’s desk, not missing the look he gave her when she did. He said nothing, probably given that for the moment, she outranked even him, apparently. 

“Got your letter. I was a bit disappointed it wasn’t more fun, but what can you do?” She sighed. 

Mostly it was to see what, if any reaction that would earn her, and the slight blush combined with the way he struggled to formulate a response was far better than anything she could have expected. 

“Perhaps it wasn’t fun, but I thought to prepare you. This one is sort of a big deal, lots of enemies now.” He said finally. 

“Do we know where this person came from?” Amara asked quietly. 

“I’m unsure where he was found, the reports were fairly vague unfortunately, however the last I saw of him was in Kirkwall.” He said.

“Kirkwall? But I don’t…” she started. Remembering both Varric and Hawke’s presence in the city, and that Cullen had come to the Inquisition from Kirkwall got the gears turning. People talked, there were plenty of possibilities. She looked at his face, suddenly grim like he was recalling something he wasn’t quite fond of. A curious possibility occurred to her after a few moments. She shook her head. “If it’s who I think it is, no. Absolutely not. This is way out of my league.” 

“Inquisitor...you may not want to, but it  _ is _ part of your duties.” He reminded her. 

Amara’s mouth drew into little more than a straight, tight lipped line across her face. She seemed annoyed. 

“You’re gonna owe me a drink for this. More than that? You have to sit with me. No running off. If I’m not allowed to skip my job, you’re not allowed not to!” She huffed. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I take it, that's an order?” 

“If it has to be.” She muttered through puffed cheeks. 

“Very well. Shall I have him brought up from the dungeons?” He asked. 

She crossed her arms, staring down at the stone for far too long, probably. This really was way over her head. Likely the same guy that some had claimed was single handedly responsible for the mages and templars fighting, although Fiona had also claimed to be responsible. That only added to her lack of depth for the situation. 

“Not...not just yet. I’ll let you know when. If it’s all the same, this may be best saved until I have all sides and as much information as I can get first. I’ll drop by and see for myself.” She decided. 

“I’ll have a few guards sent with you.” He said. 

“Are you worried about me?” She asked. “I’m plenty capable of defending myself, especially from someone behind bars.” 

She cradled a small wisp of fire in her palm, shrinking and expanding it with ease before extinguishing it entirely. “No guard. I don’t want to feel rushed in this. Besides, I’m insightful, I’m more likely to get more just by observing than I will if I’m distracted by all that clanking.”

“If you insist...I don’t like this. If anything happened to you…” he began. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me. You still owe me a drink.” She told him, heading for the door.

Glancing back, she shot him a wink, snickering a bit when it made him blush just a touch again. 

In all honesty, it was a bit more intimidating than she expected. Once she got out of his office, she found that she wasn’t actually ready to come face to face with what she could only assume was some dreadfully frightening murderer. Probably ate babies and haunted people’s dreams. The longer she thought about it, the more that image embedded itself in her mind, weakening her resolve. 

“Hawke first, then…” she muttered, wandering off to find him first. 

Not too hard to figure out, hiding out with the wine. She again plunked her butt on a table. Hawke noticed her after a moment, raising his brows. 

“That’s a very serious look…” he observed, holding a bottle of something or other to her. 

She took it without complaint, taking a long drink before handing it back with a groan. 

“Oh, that’s terrible…” she muttered. 

“It’s strong. It’s not supposed to be good, probably.” He said with an idle shrug. “What’s on your mind? I assume this isn’t the kind of visit where you tell me I’m dashing and handsome and you simply can’t keep your hands off me?” 

She grinned a little at that. “Would that it were such a visit. No...I’m afraid I’ve got to ask something far more serious.” 

He sighed at that, joining her on the table, taking a drink before passing it back again. Easier this way, less distance to cover to make sure neither really thought too hard about it. “Go for it. If I can help in some way, I will.” 

“The Kirkwall Chantry.” She began. He immediately frowned at that. “What happened? The man responsible, surely the stuff of nightmares, right?” 

She took the bottle, taking a long drink from it, making a noise in the back of her throat, holding it out again. 

“Anders is...was? I don’t even know...he’s a decent man on his own...but his feelings about the mistreatment of mages twisted the spirit living inside of him…” he began uneasily. “I...unwittingly helped with what happened at the chantry. He came to my home, told me he had a way to safely separate himself from Justice without hurting either. But...no, it was to force change.” 

“Force change…? What was it he meant to accomplish?” She asked. 

“He said “One last chance to give the Grand Cleric an opportunity to do the right thing, to say something, to stop this.” It wasn’t that simple. I’d almost had things calmed for a time, but tensions ended up boiling up, and Elthina...much as I wish I could agree and say she should have picked a side, I suppose it’s really not that simple. Admonishing the Templars would have been a betrayal in their eyes, the chantry controls Templars usually…and telling off the mages would have made them feel cornered, might have given Meredith’s push for the Rite of Annulment more credibility...it wasn’t perhaps right, but there really wasn’t a right answer, at least not one that was obvious or as swift as what was needed.” 

Hawke leaned back a bit, taking a swig before handing it back. Amara took another drink. Part of her vaguely hoped this might actually do her in so this was no longer her problem, but if nothing else, it was helping to ensure she didn’t let it crush her completely right off the bat. Hawke blushed slightly, shrugging. 

“To answer your other question...not monstrous at all. In fact, I admit I thought he was pretty good looking. I’d have tumbled him without a second thought. Except...well, I’m not keen on the idea of being watched and so Justice was kind of...weird for me. The idea of a spirit watching me... _ do my thing _ …” he tried to say tactfully. “Was a bit...I was younger then, not as open minded to different things.” 

Amara grinned at that, nudging his shoulder. “What about now? All grown up and ready to ‘do your thing’, I suppose?” 

He coughed into his arm, face full red for a few moments. “I mean… I…” 

Amara snickered at that. “No, scandalous. Are you a virgin, Hawke?” 

He pressed the bottle into her hand. “Now, I never said that, I just...i've been busy. Outrunning the Blight, working to earn entry into Kirkwall, being betrayed by Varric’s brother for a red lyrium idol in the Deep Roads...ousting Qunari, accidentally aiding in the destruction of the chantry and starting the very war you had to wrap up...going on the run so no one decided to hold an Exalted March on the city...when is there time in all that…” 

She took a drink, sighing in defeat. “That, I understand completely.” Sweeping her hair back behind her ear, she added. “Yeah...me too. I talk big, but that’s all it is. Just talk.” 

“What use are heroes if they don’t even get a little love for their troubles?” He asked with a laugh. 

“We should unionize. I’d say we could invite the Hero of Ferelden, but let’s face it. Lucky bugger actually got what we didn’t.” Amara muttered. 

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.” Hawke wondered. 

“Leliana!” She said in disbelief. “Saw a letter when I was in her office the other day. Didn’t see much, but it was  _ spicy.” _

“Do you think  _ we’ll  _ ever get spicy letters?” He asked. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve received four proposals just this week. On the other hand, they’re all dreadfully boring and I just threw them out. Even Dorian gets better letters…” she sighed. 

Hawke took another sip, holding it out to her. “Looks like this is the last. To your health.” 

She drained the bottle, staring at it. “Eugh. Not like this.” 

“It really is just awful.” He admitted. “Are you off to work or should we find something better, drown our sorrows a while longer?” 

She eyed the door. Really, she should get back to her mission, find out what she could from those more familiar and work up to meeting this boogieman. Realizing that, she sighed. 

“It’ll keep. Let’s see if we can’t find something less horrible. Or more horrible but  _ stronger _ . Either way.” She decided. 

Hawke browsed the bottles on the shelves for a time before pointing to one. “This sounds promising.” 

“What is it?” She asked. 

“Dunno, it just says ‘Alvarado’s Bathtub Boot Screech.” He shrugged. 

“Well, I haven’t been on the floor in sometime. Bring it over, let’s see if we can pickle ourselves in it.” She said. 

“I like your style.” He said, grabbing it from the shelf. Setting it down, he rubbed his hands together. “Bets on who has to pick us up off the floor?” 

“Three sovereigns say it’s gonna be Cassandra, for sure.” She said. 

Hawke laughed at that. “Three on it being Varric.” 

They shook on it, laughing together. 

“5 if it’s Cullen.” She said. 

“I’ll match that. Imagine the lecture!” He snorted. 

“Well then! Let’s get to it then. No time like the present.” She said. 

She reached for the bottle, pulling the cork. It immediately began to sizzle, hiss and smoke. They shared an uneasy glance. 

“This might actually kill us.” He said. 

“Probably.” She agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

Amara leaned against the wall, staggering down into the dungeon. A few coins lighter, as it unbelievably was apparently Varric that hauled them back to bed. She’d probably come up with a clever joke about it later when it didn’t feel quite like her skull was splitting open and she might actually just be dead and didn’t realize yet. 

Normally she’d have been more cautious, but it wasn’t until she’d already unlocked the cell and entered that she realized she was now face to face with the boogieman of Kirkwall. He seemed just as concerned about it as she did, staring at her like  _ she _ was the weird one. 

“Shit, I probably shouldn’t be in here…” she muttered. 

The words lazily tumbled out of her mouth more than were spoken, and even that invited another wave of pain through her head. Actually, it made her stomach feel a little queasy too, and more than anything, she worried about accidentally throwing up in front of a prisoner. 

“Are you… wonderful, you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Anders asked with a sigh. “That’s probably me losing my head. As if this didn’t already seem terrible.” 

She raised a finger, waiting for the nausea to pass before she replied. “That’s a vicious rumor. I was drunk  _ yesterday _ . I knew that shit was bad the minute I saw the smoke.” 

He stared in disbelief.  _ This  _ was the woman in charge of judging him? An easy guess, she didn’t wear the armor the guards had worn, her hand glowing like that? Absolutely the survivor of the Conclave. ‘Herald of Andraste’, the dread ‘Inquisitor’ was a hungover Dalish elf…surely she was already intent on executing him, but at least if he tried to help, she might at least look at him less like he was planning to have her for dinner…

“Come here…” he sighed. “Let me help.” 

Amara narrowed her eyes at him, and he couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or the light filtering in from the broken wall that had caused it. She weighed her options. She was already here, if he really thought he could escape, it would be only too easy to get past her and out. He had made no move for the cell door, or the key, not that he needed it. Then again, Cullen probably had guards in the hall anyway, and had made a point to remind her that some few Templars had joined up before shit went south. 

Reluctantly, she came closer, taking a seat on what could generously be called a bed, watching him as closely as she could manage with the void pounding in her head. He put his hands on either side of her head. The energy he emitted made her eyes water, too bright, and yet, everything about it was gentle. Felt pretty nice, actually. The pain receded slowly, but by the time he stopped, it felt like she hadn’t been drinking with Hawke all night. 

He cocked his head, locking eyes with her for a few moments. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“Yeah, that’s...loads better, really. Thank you…” she sighed. 

Amara got up, returning to her place, standing near the door. One nice thing was far from enough to absolve or condemn him. 

“Why would you help me? I don’t doubt you know exactly who I am.” She asked. 

“It’s still what I do. I’m a healer.” He said. “Would it surprise you to know I actually  _ don’t  _ know? I’ve gathered you’re the Inquisitor, but that doesn’t tell me a thing about you.” 

It was almost instinct that had her holding out her hand. He shook it, and she let go after a moment. 

“Amara Lavellan.” She said. 

“Anders.” He replied. “If you’d allow me to ask, to what do I owe the dubious honor of this visit?” 

No point in not being honest. Perhaps if she was, he would feel compelled to return the favor. 

“You are not the average prisoner.” She told him. “I don’t feel qualified to judge you at all, but given that I’m being told I’m not allowed  _ not _ to, I felt it best I take the time to speak with you personally, hear your side. I’ve spoken with Hawke and that was insightful, but far from cut and dried.” 

He raised a brow at that. “Hawke is...here then?” Shaking his head a bit. “No, I’m guessing he’s the reason you were hungover. Almost a hobby of his at this point.” 

“That would be a correct assumption.” She confirmed. “I…” 

She paused, looking around the cell. A crust of bread and water all that was there besides the ‘bed’. In truth, she might not have cared about such things but she was getting hungry and her mother had always impressed that it was rude to eat in front of guests. 

“One moment.” She said. 

Leaving the cell, she went to the door, poking her head out. There were indeed a few guards milling about outside. She waved one over. 

“Your Worship?” He asked. 

“Could you see that someone brings some tea and food. Two trays, if you would. Two cups also?” She requested. 

The look on his face said he  _ wanted _ to ask, but instead, he saluted and walked away. Perks of being in charge, she supposed. Returning to the cell, she took a seat on the ground, her weight supported on her arms as she raised her hips off the ground. 

“Oh, that’s fucking cold…” she muttered. 

“You’re telling me.” He agreed. 

There was silence for a while, until the guard returned, another behind with the food and the tea. Again, it looked as though they wanted to express concern about her being  _ inside _ the cell with him, but left without a word. She slid a tray to him, and filled the cups, handing one over. Anders seemed curious about the gesture, but rather than ask, he laughed. 

“I see, so I  _ am _ to be executed then?” He joked. 

“We both are, it would seem. Still, it must be better than water and bread.” She said with a shrug. 

“I’ll not bother refusing. It’s...unexpected, but welcome.” He said. 

“Before anything else...I must ask. What happened? From your perspective. I need to know what led up to...the incident.” She asked as delicately as possible. 

“What is it you know about what it was like?” Anders asked instead. 

“Cullen tells me tensions were high. I believe he mentioned...the Qunari occupied the city, there was fighting...the Viscount was murdered...Hawke killed the Arishok...the mages and Templars fought in the city, the Knight-Commander went crazy, Varric mentioned she turned to a red lyrium statue...all after you apparently blew up the chantry.” Amara reviewed. 

“Cullen’s here too, because  _ of course he is _ .” He muttered. “Well, as bare as that was, it’s not wrong. I admit I did it. I lied to Hawke about the reasons I needed the ingredients I asked his help in getting, I blew up the chantry. I killed the grand cleric and all those that were still inside.”

“Yes, but why?” Amara pressed. 

“The Templars were committing atrocities. One had submitted a plan to turn all of Kirkwall’s mages tranquil. I was surprised to see it had been rejected, but that had not stopped what happened. Mages had been tortured by some, pushed to their limits to see what would break them. They turned Karl tranquil over a couple of  _ letters! _ Yes. Some mages had turned to blood magic, there were abominations, but most were scared, pushed to it in  _ fear _ .” He explained. 

Anders’ eyes began to glow, and he struggled, reigning it in, forcing himself to instead focus on eating until he could calm down again. 

“Apologies. The subject tends to get me upset…” he sighed. “I tried reasoning with the Grand Cleric. Hawke spoke to her so many times, and she refused to see reason. I would not have liked it if she had chosen to side with the Templars but at least she would have done  _ something _ . Instead, she sat by while everything went wrong. Blindly hoping that if she shut her eyes tightly enough it would sort itself out. I felt there was no other choice, something  _ had  _ to change. It did. It got results. I’m not sorry about it, though I do regret that some killed had nothing to do with it either way…” 

A lot of people probably wanted him dead. She realized that, but this wasn’t the first time she’d heard the stories of the Templars in Kirkwall being less than kind to their charges. It wasn’t the first time someone had claimed responsibility for contributing to the war that erupted. Logic said he was not the only one at fault, why should he bear the full responsibility of it all? Instead, she hung her head, kneading the back of her neck with a heavy sigh. 

“Perhaps...maybe it would be of interest to you to know...the mages that fled the circles? I’ve taken them in. As allies. They’re free, at least for now. I can’t begin to imagine what will happen when the next Divine takes the throne, but at least until the Inquisition has served its purpose, they’re safe…” she told him. 

“That...is interesting, actually. Why? Even for a mage, the Dalish don’t usually take interest in the world, do they?” He wondered. 

“I’m told my clan is unique, that it’s not common to have enough interest in human affairs to send me to the conclave to spy. The fate of mages is of great interest to me, given that if apostates are to be killed or dragged off, that still applies to me as well.” She said. 

“I suppose that’s true enough…” he agreed. “So...what happens now?” 

She shrugged. “Now, we finish eating, and I think this over. As I suspected, this isn’t exactly simple.” 

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Amara had returned after several days in the Hinterlands in demon killing and rift closing duty. As ever, Bull and Varric made it an absolute pleasure, the banter and downtime at night light and fun, rather than pure doom and gloom. Vivienne had made it insufferable, and she was just drained, and annoyed. 

Rather than hitting the tavern, or going to bed, she opted instead to return to the dungeon. She still wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do about Anders, but it was the one place she could go where she was guaranteed not to be bothered unless it was actually urgent. 

She paced the narrow walk in front of the cells, ruffling up her hair in frustration. Anders watched her for a few minutes, opting to speak up. 

“Rough day?” He asked. 

“You have no idea…” she groaned. 

“I’m not exactly going anywhere, and you’re making me nervous. Would it not be easier to come in and talk?” He suggested. 

“I shouldn’t…” she sighed heavily. 

Despite that, she unlocked the cell, plunking down on the floor. He sat up on his bed, leaned against the bars. She hunched over twisting her fingers in her ponytail. 

“You haven’t been by for a few days, let’s start there. I don’t know what an Inquisitor does, actually.” He suggested. 

“I was in the Hinterlands. Most of my job is setting demons on fire and closing the rifts the bloody bastards drop out of. Good news is I don’t go alone, so I’m not bored at least.” She explained. “But that’s also the problem.” 

“Ah...let me guess: you have someone or maybe several people that you don’t get along with so well.” He guessed. 

She shook her finger as if to say he hit the nail on the head. “A few. Mostly, I get along well with everyone, but there’s a few who get under my skin.” 

“I’ve had my fair share of disagreeable people in my time. Want to talk about it?” Anders asked. 

“Madame de Fer. Vivienne…” she snorted. “I hate her personality, she only cares about herself. I should have made her leave after...after what she said to me in Haven…” 

“What happened in Haven?” He asked. “I wasn’t there, forgive me if it’s a sore subject.” 

She laughed humorlessly. Pointing to her face, the scars running over her lip and up her jaw. Amara folded in on herself, holding herself almost.

“Haven was...where we were first. I was a prisoner at first. The only survivor of the Conclave. I’m told there was an explosion, and that I fell out of the Fade...I don’t remember any of it myself...this mark, there wasn’t much choice, everyone in Thedas dies, or they let me go and hope I could fix it. I was able to close it, but then, after I allied with the mages, the Templars attacked. They were...wrong...infected with red lyrium, it grew out of them...I brought Vivienne and Varric, and The Iron Bull, and there were villagers trapped, some in burning buildings, or under fallen beams, assailed by the red Templars…Vivienne says to me “Best to hurry, darling, the villagers will only slow you down.” Who says that! Of course, that’s before we got separated. Came face to face with some ancient blighted magister named Corypheus and his dragon...or...Archdemon? I don’t know… I managed to trigger an avalanche, but it buried the village, and I had to climb up the Frostbacks alone, covered in my own blood, with broken bones. Then we made it here…” Amara recounted, fingers unconsciously pressing against her skin like reliving the injuries. 

“I have no idea what to say...I’d say it’s completely unbelievable, but you’re here, and I’m here, and I mean...I remember Corypheus. You said Hawke was here, that must have something to do with why…” Anders realized. “I’d rather not make you think about that more than necessary. So...let me ask, what did this Vivienne do to upset you today?”

Amara threw up her hands, renewed annoyance replacing her pain and sorrow. She stretched out on the floor, something she couldn’t explain, but that she had done since she was a child. 

“So get this!” She hissed. “There are refugees in the area, demons heading right for it, I want to go help. She says to me “Helping is noble my dear, but these dirty urchins won’t give you anything but trouble.” I don’t want to be a scheming social climber, I just want to do what I can to help, after all, I didn’t close the Breach just to save only the people who could give me wealth, power and influence… I saved everyone, regardless. I was even told I could leave! I didn’t have to be here, I could have let the Breach destroy everything…shit, I didn’t even want _this_ job. I didn’t feel like I had much choice.” 

“She sounds like a bitch.” He remarked. 

“You’re absolutely right. I think you’d find her more disagreeable when I tell you the best part.” Amara snorted. 

“Oh? It gets better, does it?” Anders asked. 

“She’s a circle mage. Mistress to some duke. Spent her time in Orlesian court. Insists things weren’t so bad. Basically thinks other mages are just whining, like she’s any judge, she makes it sound like she was barely ever there. The first time I met her was at this big party she threw, killed a chevalier right there! No one batted an eye at it. Absolutely baffling. Says all mages are dangerous. A mage is no more dangerous than any other weapon. Could a sword in the wrong hands not kill just as easily as an untrained mage?” She argued. 

Anders made a face, shaking his head. “Imagine participating in your own oppression.” He stretched out in his bedroll, hands behind his head with a sigh. “I can see why you don’t like her. She sounds insufferable.” 

“If it weren’t for the fact that she’s not half bad in a fight, and maybe I’m secretly hoping a high dragon lands on her, I’d have told her to leave...she’s less of an issue if I can keep an eye on her. I don’t trust her not to cause trouble if I kick her out, she strikes me as the revenge type…” Amara admitted. 

“I know Varric. He’s a decent sort, tell me about someone you _do_ like then.” Anders requested. 

Partly to take her mind of it and equally to avoid thinking about just how hypocritical it sounded to insist mages be locked up except for her. 

“Bull is great. Qunari, the first I’ve ever met, but he’s so strong, and _funny_.” She said, giggling. 

“You have...a Qunari here?” He asked warily. 

“Oh yeah! Him and his mercenary company. Even has a former Tevinter soldier with them. Krem is nice too. I like him.” Amara said. 

“You’re fighting a magister...but have Tevinter allies? None of this sounds daft?” He questioned 

“Oh, no, it absolutely is. Completely wild!” She agreed. “Then there’s Dorian, our other Tevinter. Mage, very well dressed, has the sharpest, most sarcastic wit I’ve ever heard. Let me pester him with questions too.” 

“Indulge me a bit. Are you seeing anyone?” Anders asked. 

She laughed at that. “Careful, I might get the impression you’re interested.”

“Yes, that would be the shortest lived romance I’ve ever heard of. Besides, nothing says ‘conflict of interest’ like falling for your prisoner. I’d just like to know the person who has the dubious honor of deciding my fate.” He shrugged. 

“No, there’s no one…” she admitted. “Probably for the best, I like to flirt sometimes, but I wouldn’t know what to do if someone was serious about it…” 

“That’s...honestly sad. Fought off an army, saving the world, and just...nothing?” He said. 

“Yeah, I know! Crazy, right? I assume it’s me. Elf, mage, this whole mess.” She said, gesturing to her face. “I suppose I’d think twice about it too.” 

Sighing to herself, she forced herself to stand. “I’ve taken enough of your time. No doubt I’ll have to hear about it if I stay here too long...thanks for listening, though.” 

“I’d say ‘anytime’ but no doubt that’s a short lived offer.” Anders said. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re the monster people think you are.” Amara admitted. “Frankly, I thought you’d have more teeth, or...I don’t know, horns or something.” 

“Does that disappoint you?” Anders laughed. 

“Hm...not really. I’m glad you’re...well...you.” She shrugged. 

Amara stepped out, staring at the door for a few moments, grimacing a bit when she locked it. 

She still had no idea what to do about any of this. Shit, she wasn’t even sure what the right thing to do was...


	7. Chapter 7

Amara closed the door. Another pointless day of waiting. Nothing was ready, as was usual. She shouldn’t have come back. She shouldn’t be here again. Part of it was just that it was sort of nice to have someone to listen. Not that others wouldn’t, but this felt different. He was approachable in a way most weren’t. Sure, others were more intimidated by her than they had to be, but that didn’t take into account that they were just as much to her. The other part was that she still had no idea what she was supposed to do, and maybe it might help. 

She sighed, fidgeting with the key for a few moments before she unlocked the cell, closing it behind her. Anders looked up from the corner, utterly surprised to see her again. 

“You’re back…” he observed. “You must be very bored.” 

Amara shrugged and nodded. “I am. Waiting on everything to be ready to go. I’m tired of sitting on my hands.” 

“So what’s holding you up?” He asked. 

“Inspections, reports, word from our contact that he’s arrived and something’s going on. I don’t even know, it’s probably all just excuses. I could have been there already.” She sighed. “But no. I’m  _ important  _ and I can’t take  _ risks _ . If I were any other elf, I’d be cannon fodder and they know it as well as I do. No one would care.” 

“No arguing that. Everyone in Kirkwall knew what Hawke was, Meredith even said as much, the only reason they let him walk around with Merrill and I was because he had too much influence to haul him in, I’m sure. Not that Meredith wouldn’t have tried if she thought she could.” Anders said. “Without him, I’d probably be dead. She’d have called for the Rite of Annulment and wiped out every mage in Kirkwall. If it’s anything like that here? I could see it. You’re at the top here. Too big to touch, but I’d gather that doesn’t mean everyone respects you.” 

She waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t ask that anyone respect me, I’d rather have a few people genuinely loyal to me than force everyone to sit at my feet. It’s more a relief that it hasn’t come to defending myself here.” Thinking about it, she laughed. “I was always taught not to do magic in front of others unless there was no choice. I suppose that’s why it’s been such a concern, me coming here alone.” 

“Sending a poor, defenseless mage to visit the big, bad monster isn’t sitting well with others? How surprising.” He snorted. 

“Just one person, really. I’m surprised he doesn’t insist I take a complement of soldiers everywhere I go. Then again, I’m sure if that was an option, the others might offer counter suggestions. “let’s send her with spies instead, no one will see them.” She sighed. “Why don’t we pull some strings and get the local nobility to watch over her instead, call in some favors.” As if I need that.” 

“I’d imagine it must feel like they don’t trust you?” He asked. 

“No, not always. Maybe it is just actual concern...I don’t know. My clan dealt openly with humans, but despite that, I didn’t. My studies often kept me isolated, it’s...difficult to tell. Not as open as I’m used to.” Amara explained. “Ahh, but listen to me complaining yet again. I had a different reason for visiting…” 

“What reason might that be?” He asked, sitting up fully. 

“I’ve been trying to think of my options. I’m sure it’s not surprising a lot of people want you dead.” She sighed. 

“No, not really. I’m actually surprised Hawke let me go. I was ready and willing to pay the price then, but he didn’t take the opportunity.” He admitted. 

“Would it be at all surprising if I said I don’t want to kill you?” She asked. “Lady Montilyet impressed that it’s not just killing, it’s applying justice. That I can be as simple or creative as I feel the matter requires. To me, killing you is not the just thing to do. I’m afraid that’s all the further I’ve gotten. I still don’t know what the ‘just’ thing is. Or maybe I’m just a coward, they didn’t give me a big fuck off sword to look like a badass, I’m sure it’s because if I judge someone must die, I have to do it. Only right, completely fair...but I can’t live with that on my conscience, not this time.” 

Anders looked away, sighing. “Are you sure you just haven’t allowed yourself to get too close?” 

“It’s not as though we’ve become best friends, although I understand some might say that. I’d argue that your death wouldn’t solve anything. You are not beyond redemption, but you can’t do that if your head is in a basket.” She said. 

“Be careful. I’m actually starting to respect you…” he told her. 

She shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m not like others. I’m still trying to decide if that’s a compliment or an insult. Maybe it’s both.” 

“I couldn’t say. What I can say is I’m surprised you care. I’m sure most in your position would have been quick to wash their hands of the matter.” Anders admitted. 

“Regardless of what I choose, you are part of Skyhold. That makes you my responsibility, and I want to make sure my people are fairly treated and cared for. After what I endured at the hands of Alexius, I admit I  _ wanted _ to be done with him, but...Dorian asked me for leniency, and in truth, much of what I endured was in a future that may never come to pass. I couldn’t judge someone on actions they  _ might _ cause.” She explained. “I have him serving as a magical researcher. He’s also working closely with the mages he had intended to force into service to the Imperium. They benefit, and we benefit, he makes up for the crimes he  _ did  _ commit, plus, he’s doing something I’m told he enjoys.” 

Folding her hands in her lap, she stared at the floor in thought, shaking her head. “I don’t know you well enough to know if that would work. I’ve heard you don’t play nicely with Templars, and I don’t know that I can ask Cullen to watch over you. I don’t know that you would take working with the clerics here, keeping in mind the Chantry doesn’t even work with us officially. I don’t know that people would let you help them, even if you were the only one who could. I also know you haven’t exactly stopped running from things.” 

Reaching into her pack, she dropped a stack of reports, frowning. “You’ve run from the circle. Ran from the wardens. Fled from Kirkwall...how do I know if I let you live, you won’t run from anything I could come up with?” 

Anders looked at the pages, saw the various signatures. He knew exactly where they came from. Signatures from Templars, Kinloch, the Warden-Commander, even Hawke’s signature was visible among them. So her spymaster was good. Varric might have said  _ something  _ but wouldn’t have dug in so deep to find this. 

“I can’t ask you to take my word for it. You don’t know me that well. So, the only assurance I can offer: you have an army. You’ve got Templars in your number. No doubt I wouldn’t make it far before I was either killed or dragged back.” Grinning, he added. “You’ve left the door open every time you’ve come. If I felt so lucky, I could have tried my luck a few times. Had you locked yourself in here, I’m sure I could have found a clever way to get the key off you. I haven’t. I won’t.” 

He gestured towards the door. “A question for you, if you’ll allow it.” 

“It’s only fair.” She agreed. 

“How is it you intend to keep  _ me _ safe from others? You worry I’ll do something. Have you considered that I’ll be in danger if you let me loose?” He asked. 

Amara frowned. She actually  _ hadn’t  _ thought about that, only what others might fear in that. He raised an interesting question. How was she supposed to protect him? 

“If I were to do this, theoretically of course, you would fall under my protection. I would keep you safe. In the same way I do my best to keep everyone from my advisors to the kitchen helpers safe.” She explained. Sighing heavily, she added. “I’ll be gone for some time. When I return, I’ll have reached a decision…” 

“Just be sure whatever you choose, you’ve considered the consequences carefully…” he told her. 

“Believe me, that’s not left my thoughts…” Amara confessed. “No matter what I choose, it’s going to make someone very upset. It’s unavoidable.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Amara trudged through the gates, massaging her shoulders with a heavy sigh. Really, she would have loved a bath, a drink, and a nap, not specifically in the order. Rather than the few days she expected it to be, it ended up being more like a week plus a few days, and she had insisted she’d deal with this business when she returned. 

No one would be happy if she put it off much longer. Maybe a chance to change into something clean and more fitting of a matter this formal and serious. She hated being serious. Never sat well with her, and having to go change so as not to offend a room full of fancy jerks was annoying enough without making it worse. 

“Hold off from the tavern just yet…” she sighed. “Going to deal with Anders first. I’ll need you to be present and sober. Drinks on me after, though.” 

Hawke snickered at that. “You buying or are we drinking off you, unclear.” 

“You know. I set myself up for that one. Please! Varric is present. You’ll offend his sensibilities with that suggestion!” She joked. “I’ll buy. Least I can do for not letting you rest right off.” 

“Just go let Curly know and get ready.” Varric sighed. 

He really wasn’t looking forward to any part of this. Muttering to himself, he waved Hawke to follow, heading into the main hall. The others were already gathered as well, save for Cullen, presumably off to escort him with a guard or two. 

Amara returned after a moment, in some terribly austere outfit that didn’t at all fit with her personality. The murmuring of approval from curious onlookers seemed to suggest most of these people had no idea just how jarring it was to see one of the least serious people he’d ever known dressed like that. 

The guards came up from the dungeons with Anders, cuffed and shackled in front of her. Cullen stood off to the side, not missing the strange disapproval hidden in her eyes like a secret. For whatever reason, that look said it was unnecessary to take such tight precautions, though she said nothing about it. A word to Josephine and she hurriedly asked the extra guests to leave for a bit. The hall doors closed up behind them. Reviewing the formal charges, Amara sat up a little taller. She draped one leg over the other, fingers steepled in front of her mouth. She  _ had  _ learned something after all, never reveal your tells. 

“What do you have to say in your defense, Anders?” She asked. No hint of anything but serious professionalism in her tone. 

He kneaded his wrists for a few moments, standing tall, rather than slouching in defeat. Anders looked her directly in the eyes, unflinching. 

“I have nothing to say. I’m guilty. I can’t take back what I’ve done, and even if I did apologize, I don’t think anyone would accept it.” He said. 

“Very well.” Amara replied. 

Last time, this was the part where she handed down her judgment. Now, she sat still, unmoving. After a moment, she spoke, but nothing anyone expected to hear. 

“This one is hard for me. I was not involved in the matter, nor was I affected by it. I’ve had a chance to hear more about it from those who  _ were _ involved. It’s...a bit unusual for me. This case is unique, and as such, unique measures are needed.” She announced. “Commander Rutherford, if you would come over here, please.” 

Cullen looked surprised to say the least. Plain enough to see he didn’t expect it, she likely hadn’t even suggested as much. He strode up next to her where she pointed, turning to face the small group when she spun her finger on the spot. Before he got a chance to ask any questions, she added. 

“If you would, I’d first like you to give your impression of what happened, and what you would have done.” She told him. 

Cullen cleared his throat, nodding once. “I...was not actually present when the chantry exploded. I arrived after, however it was visible from where I was, it went up, and then there was a secondary explosion. I can’t say with any accuracy how many people were killed by infighting between mages and Templars and which were a result of his doing. What I can say is there were many left dead and with nowhere to turn in the aftermath.” 

Amara looked between him, Anders and the room, trying to find anything that offered extra insight. “Given that, what would you have me do?” 

“I would have him executed, if it were my decision.” He said. 

Anders flinched slightly at that. To be expected, of course that would be what he wanted. 

“Dismissed.” She said. “Varric, over here, if you would.” 

Varric stood in Cullen’s place when he left, facing out as well. 

“Same questions, if you don’t mind.” Amara told him. 

“I was actually present when it happened. Look, I’m sure you already know about the...other half of him.” He said delicately. “It was definitely him at first. He started glowing for a bit, and I can’t tell you if he was the one in control or not. That might not be an excuse, and I won’t say it is. Something to maybe consider though. In fairness, he told Hawke he could kill him. He didn’t. I don’t know? Maybe that means something, couldn’t really tell you what. As far as what to do? I don’t know if I’d go so far as execution. He’s had good moments too, he’s a healer too, that’s probably useful. Killing him is a waste of a useful resource. Could keep him in the dungeons?” 

“Thank you, Varric. You can go. Hawke, if you would?” Amara said, trying to process the information while she worked. 

Hawke stood next to her, rubbing his arm like he was nervous. Made sense. He was contributing to whatever fate was in store for his friend, someone he had been damn close to. Without needing to ask, he spoke up. 

“I was there. In fact, I unwittingly helped him out. I helped gather the ingredients he used to blow up the chantry. I distracted Grand Cleric Elthina, and I let him escape afterwards. If you want the truth, I’m just as guilty as Anders is.” Hawke admitted. “No one says anything about that because I was  _ important? _ It’s not a good enough reason to punish him, but not me.” 

That definitely made matters more complicated. He had a very good point, but it left her with more of a dilemma rather than less. 

“I won’t argue with what you decide, but instead ask that the punishment apply to me as well.” He said, 

Leaning back in her seat, she dismissed him for the moment, waving Josephine back over. They spoke quietly behind her writing board, no hint of what they might be discussing. No lips to read. The room was tense, and far too quiet already. Finally, Josephine hesitantly nodded, scribbling something at a breakneck pace. Amara finally lowered her hands, folded at her knee. 

“I’ve reached a decision. Given the authority from several nations, I expect my choice will be respected. It’s final, and I will not hear arguments in regards to it.” Amara declared. “I can’t say there would be any justice in execution, martyring him for a cause is a dangerous suggestion. Rather, I’m offering a chance to prove yourself. I will watch over you personally for the next few months. You will accompany me. There are conditions during this probationary period. Firstly being, if you run, I rescind this offer. If you hurt anyone intentionally, I rescind this offer. If you prove you can be trusted, you will work alongside Mother Giselle and tend to the wounded. We don’t deal in slavery, you will be paid for your work, however, half of all earnings until the inquisition has served its purpose, will go towards those affected by the chantry explosion. If you succeed, you will be allowed to go free. Failure will result in you being imprisoned and returned either to Kirkwall or to the Grey Wardens. Do you have anything to say?” 

“I never expected mercy. I’ll do my best not to waste this chance.” Anders said, bobbing his head slightly. 

The guard seemed uncertain, but unlocked his bonds after a few moments. Dorian raised his brows in surprise, but said nothing in regards. Vivienne stared at her for a moment. 

“My dear, are you sure that was really wise? You know there will be backlash, surely.” She said. 

Anders looked her over for a moment, nodding. “You must be Vivienne.” 

“Madame de Fer, to you.” She said icily. 

“Of course.” Anders replied, unimpressed. “I’ve so far only seen the gates and the dungeons. If I’m going to be your shadow for the next few months, I’d like to at least know how this works, and where I’m to follow you.” 

Amara stopped, frowning. “Hawke, Varric. Get something good. Meet me in my quarters.” 

She rummaged in her coin purse, offering up a few sovereigns. “Whatever that’ll get us.” 

They nodded, heading out to the tavern together. Most of her companions filtered out, though Cole stood by, looking first to him, and then to her. Amara gestured to him fondly. 

“This is Cole. He’s a spirit and I love him, he’s the best. Isn’t that right?” She said. 

“Hesitation, like when the needle came closer. Not scared, but shaking still.” Cole murmured. 

“Ah. Was I thinking of that?” She wondered. “Mamae squeezed my hand, told me to be brave. Said one day I would have to lead, and that was a part of it. I miss her.” To Anders she said. “He does that sometimes.” 

He looked at Cole curiously. “I’m surprised. First you let the mages loose, and you have a spirit?  _ No one _ even questions it?” 

“Well...Vivienne told me I should make Cole leave, but really? No. It’s been my choice. I think if you give it a chance, you’ll find things are more or less working fine here. You might even like it.” She told him. 

Anders followed behind her when she walked away, waving him along. Seemed an odd choice to have her room past yet another short hall, looking up the stairs in silent curiosity. In a way, it reminded him of Hawke’s Hightown mansion. He couldn’t imagine it clearly enough at the moment to decide if it was more or less grand, honestly. 

Amara pointed to the couch. “Given that this wasn’t exactly planned for, there’s no room set up for you yet. Although I’m unsure currently if you would be safer staying here for now as of yet. Until that’s determined and arranged if needed, you’ll stay here. You can sleep there.” 

Anders made a face, looking over his shoulder. “Here I thought we’d be in the same bed. Unfortunate.” 

Amara gestured to the bed, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Well I mean, not that there’s not enough  _ room _ . This could fit like a tenth of my clan. Who even  _ needs _ this much room?” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She’s so glad for it to be over so she doesn’t have to be so serious for a bit.


	9. Chapter 9

Amara frowned, taking off the heavy leather jacket, rolling up her sleeves. She paused to raise the lower half of her tunic, raising it up midway and rolling it. Who knew if it showed, but she could feel sweat rolling down her back and her hair plastering to her face, and she hated it. 

“Of course they’d have to be  _ here _ . Why not the sweaty crack of Thedas.” She grumbled to herself. 

Hawke had already peeled off his armor and put it away, his entire shirt gone, abs looking practically oiled up. Even  _ Varric _ was bare from waist up like they’d all just agreed comfort was worth the extra vulnerability. Anders hadn’t taken off a single thing, not missing the look she gave him, both curious and accusatory in equal measure. 

“I came from the Anderfels. I’m just fine.” He said. 

“ _ Lucky you.” _ Hawke groused. 

Amara reached to her side, pulling out a small knife, not good for much except basics, cutting a thin rope, or the like, not practical for combat. She had better armor even in her bag, the loss of her sleeves wasn’t going to keep her up at night. 

“Whoa, hey, how about you let me do that.” Hawke offered. “I trust you know what you’re doing, but at that angle you’re more likely to cut yourself.” 

Stopping, she handed it over, sweeping her hair off her face again, brow beaded in sweat. Hawke took it, looming over her, very gentle in the way he raised her arm by the elbow. He cut around her sleeve with precision, tucking it in her bag after it was off. No need to leave any sort of extra trails for someone to follow, after all. He cut her other sleeve, handing the knife back to her, eyes scouring her from head to toe like he wanted to appraise her, but it was just too hot, how could anyone find time to appreciate  _ anything _ when everything was covered in sweat and dust. 

Varric had it worst, caked in sand and dust, looking just  _ moments _ from complaining about it. Anders looked between the others, pausing to follow a particular drop of sweat rolling down her spine, he wasn’t particularly bothered, and there was no stipulation that he wasn’t allowed to  _ look _ at least. Surprising Hawke wasn’t hanging back for a chance to look. That seemed to be his preferred method, watch from a safe angle where he couldn’t be caught looking, at least he’d outgrown some of his shyness. He’d have pointed it out, but this wasn’t like old times. Hawke may have stood up for him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t too soon to try and be friendly. 

Odd that the person who treated him most like a friend was the person who knew him the least. She knew what he had done, had heard many accounts, and still had come to visit. 

“Anders, did you manage to get something to eat before we left?” She asked. 

“No, it seems your kitchen staff took exception to having to serve a murderer.” He said, his tone neutral. 

Amara stopped, kneading her brow. “I’ll make camp soon, hopefully near some water. I’ll make something. It won’t be the best, I’m afraid, not much to pick from out here.” 

“How come  _ he  _ gets to try your cooking?” Hawke pouted. 

Sighing, she swept her tongue across dry, chapped lips. “You too, Varric? Do you  _ also _ feel cheated?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I admit I’m curious.” He shrugged. 

“The sun will be setting in a few hours and it’ll get chilly out. I’ll find up a good place to camp so we have time to set it up and then I’ll go out. If I wait, anything I might find will have settled for the night…” she muttered. 

It was less troublesome than it probably sounded, providing for others was simply ingrained in her, and truly, it was as much to her benefit to be able to rest and cool off as it was a chance to make sure everyone was taken care of. Looked like luck favored them, there were already scouts marking an area near a little body of water just perfect to wash up in, and she left Hawke and Varric to help set up the tents and get a fire going. It would be cold enough soon, best to get it ready sooner rather than later. 

Anders followed when she waved to him and for a moment he couldn’t help but feel like a dog following his mistress, but while that might not be the worst thing, it was nothing like that. 

“You wouldn’t rather I stay behind and help?” He asked curiously. 

“Getting bored of my backside already?” She replied jokingly. 

“I...I wasn’t…” he mumbled 

“Ooh, what did you  _ think _ I meant? You’ve been behind me all day, I meant you’ve only seen the back of me.” Amara chuckled. 

So, a softer looking Hawke. No idea if that was a good thing, but at least he knew a little of what to expect. Unexpectedly, she reflected a more vulnerable side, finger pressed to her chin curiously. 

“Honest opinion, is the view at least  _ okay? _ ” She questioned. 

He shook his head in disbelief. “Now you’re actually asking what I think of your... _ assets _ , or am I misunderstanding again?” 

She shrugged a shoulder, nodding. “Yes, I’m asking. I’m genuinely curious, and anyone I might ask is hung up on me being the  _ Inquisitor _ .” 

Anders made a face she couldn’t see. After a moment, he tipped his head, trying to look at her from a point of objectivity. He followed the line from her neck, past where her tunic was knotted in the front, following bare skin to her breeches, high, round bottom accentuated in leather, then down the back of her wrapped legs. He raised a brow. 

“I like it, at least. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would find cause to think anything else, but then mine is the only opinion I can give with certainty.” He answered. 

“Thank you. I apologize if that was a strange question. Anyway, it’s looking like varghest tonight. Nothing else to make a stew, but I suppose I could sear it, I may have some herbs left…” she trailed off as though back on track with the task at hand. 

He wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted him to come with until after she’d taken down her quarry, hauling it back to the camp, arm, side and shoulder all equally clawed open and bloody, though it seemed not to deter her. When they reached the camp, she let Hawke set about skinning it and cutting the meat while Anders busied himself mending her wounds. 

“Dinner first, then I’ll wash it off.” She muttered. 

  
  
  



End file.
